A profanity laced blog about eating, running, CrossFitting, mothering, and whatever the hell else I feel like dumping into cyberspace.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Blogging 2015: 855 down, 1160 to go (Lurong Day 44ish)

This morning started way too early with the dog freaking the fuck out at 2am. She did actually go to the bathroom, so at least it wasn't in vain. I was standing in my backyard schmabs out in a sports bra and sweats under what was basically a full moon. Sorry, neighbors. Hopefully none of you were up late enough to witness that.

A little after 6am I started hearing stirring from down the hall. Fantastic husband was at work and went straight to training after his shift ended, so I was flying solo this morning. Got the smalls fed and off to school and made it home in time to enjoy some delicious, delicious carcinogenic bacon. Also a much needed cup of coffee.

Last of the hash. Sad face.

I went to the box for 915. My running mileage was from this workout today. Backsquats, 800m repeats, and some pullups and ring dips since I can't (and never will) do a muscle up. I decided to use all 10# plates to make the math easier as the weight got higher. This looks pretty cool, so I took a snapshot, but it's really only 115#. What can I say, my maxes aren't very high.

Still kind of a badass photo, though.

Originally I was going to go to yoga at 1030, but instead I rescheduled for tomorrow night and went home to shower as I was fairly disgusting and I didn't think it was fair to make the tattoo artist smell me for 3 hours. I pulled on my tattooing jeans (seriously, I wore these when I got my shoulder work done...they're a little bigger on me now, but still comfy with a nice wide leg) and crammed my feet into my $8 slippers. I've decided shoes are stupid. If I can get by all winter with cheap slippers then I win.

Whoa. I am seriously knock-kneed. #slipperlife

So I spent close to 3 hours laying face down on a table. That makes my lower back kind of unhappy, but it's worth it. As I've said before, I don't find tattoos particularly painful, but the lettering at the top of this? Especially the outline? That shit smarts. Still, it's part of the experience. I earned this ink, and as sick as it sounds, I like to feel it being marked on me. This is a lifelong commitment, and the pain is part of the process. The outline is finished, along with the shading. All that's left is the color on 11/20! I love it.

My first tattoo is on my back and it's a thorned vine that I drew at the end of my college career. I was feeling like a thorned plant at that point in my life-untouchable. I was getting ready to graduate, I'd just lost 65#, and I wanted to commemorate those life events. My second tattoo on my shoulder/back/arm references my children. All 4 of them. The 3 that remain with me and the one that never was. This tattoo refers to my professional life. I'm a pharmacist, and I got to thinking about alchemy and the first pharmacists...and the plants they used to help or harm that we still use today. So I came up with this idea, and Steve brought it to beautiful life.

I have always been fascinated with tattoos. Some of them are fucking horrifying, but so many of them are astonishingly beautiful. I like the ones with a story the best. If you're just decorating yourself, power to you, go flat out. But the ones that have hidden significance intrigue me, and that's how I choose to decorate myself. I find having ink (especially big, undeniable ink) extremely powerful. It is my armor and my litmus test. Are you going to judge me and make assumptions about my character based on the artwork on my body? They you can fuck right off. I have enough friends. Fortunately, I most often find that these pieces open people up. They want to know the story, and it starts a conversation. From little kids to little old ladies, they all want to know about the pretty flowers.

And sometimes? A huge tattoo makes you look intimidating as hell, which can be a very good thing.

"All things are poison, and not without poison; only the dose makes a thing not a poison"

-Paracelsus

Foxglove, opium poppy, deadly nightshade, and willow bark.

At some point in all this I ate a couple of apples. How's that for a segue.

During my session I got a text from a co-worker informing me that the bossman was freaking because the deadline for our mandatory flu shots is tomorrow. I've been on vacation for three weeks. I didn't get my shot. So when I finished up, I hustled over to Employee Health to get stuck. The nurse said "You're going to feel a poke!" and I thought Yeah, probably not. Arm is sore as shit now, though. Can't even feel the calf. I will once I unwrap it. It'll feel like a sunburn for a couple of days.

This is how I was dressed going into the hospital. I've noticed something about this shirt. It makes men stare at my chest. About 20 guys just blatantly stared as I entered and left the hospital. Including a couple of really old dudes. I think this one will be relegated to the gym in the future. I guess I should be grateful it's not a V-neck. It's not that I'm averse to an appreciative gaze, but come on. I'm not trying to X-ray vision your package, you know?

MY EYES ARE UP HERE.

Today's affirmation is:

I do what I want.

Sounds kinda hashtaggy. I've used it as a hashtag. But it's really true. I am very, very fortunate. I have always been encouraged to walk my own path. Sometimes it diverges pretty significantly from the paths of those around me, but it always leads somewhere interesting. Now that I have the obligations of a home and family, sometimes my choices are limited. But they are still choices-my choices-and ultimately I do what I want. I won't pretend I never let myself get dragged down by the expectations of others, but whenever I've made a decision based on what I truly wanted it has turned out remarkably well. I need to remember to trust myself to do what's right for me, and by extension, my family.

Life is too short to conform to some cookie cutter idea of what I should be. I am what I am, and you can take it or leave it. I do what I want, 38 years running.

When was the last time you did something you truly wanted, and damn the torpedoes?